* * * * *

Poor Sally Evans. I am sure she rued the day that ever she listened to
a fortune-teller. Sally was as harmless a girl as ever churned a pound
of butter; but Sally was ignorant and superstitious. She delighted in
dream-books, and had consulted all the cunning women in the country to
tell her whether the two moles on her cheek denoted that she was to
have two husbands, or only two children. If she picked up an old
horseshoe going to church, she was sure that would be a lucky week.
She never made a black-pudding without borrowing one of the parson's
old wigs to hang in the chimney, firmly believing there were no other
means to preserve them from bursting.

She would never go to bed on Midsummer-eve without sticking up in her
room the well-known plant called Midsummer-men, as the bending of the
leaves to the right or to the left, would not fail to tell her whether
Jacob, of whom we shall speak presently, was true or false. She would
rather go five miles about than pass near a churchyard at night. Every
seventh year she would not eat beans, because they grew downward in
the pod, instead of upward; and she would rather have gone with her
gown open than have taken a pin of an old woman, for fear of being
bewitched.

Poor Sally had so many unlucky days in her calendar, that a large
portion of her time became of little use, because on these days she
did not dare set about any new work. And she would have refused the
best offer in the country if made to her on a Friday, which she
thought so unlucky a day, that she often said what a pity it was that
there was any Friday in the week. Sally had twenty pounds left her by
her grandmother. She had long been courted by Jacob, a sober lad, with